


Flotsam

by Angelas



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark, Feelings, Language, M/M, Sasuke's A+ parenting, Slow Burn, and by that I mean really bad, dark themes, sasuke is older than naru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelas/pseuds/Angelas
Summary: In which Sasuke is in the downcome of his life, and a chance encounter at a toy store changes everything.





	Flotsam

**Author's Note:**

> all these years and I still think about these two too much. been meaning to tell this story for like a year now, but life kept getting in the way. no time like the now. ;-;  
> all my thanks go to [my love](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian), who has for the most part beta'd this. I love you♡

**oOo**

The walls are cold. Sasuke feels them with the tips of his fingers, the hard little lumps left behind like bits of bone in the stucco. He almost slips, his foot too close to the other as he shambles along the thin frosty ledge of his penthouse. He stands there, twenty stories above the ashen streets of the American city. He can see the Golden Gate Bridge, the lonely stretch of the shore, all of the water it holds, the restless blue tide of the ocean. Superstructures. The timeless black night, the tall compact hives of the FiDi that gleam like perennial searchlights. A half-eaten moon. He swallows, looks down. It is a long fall. Full of slow seconds, cushioned only by the steel of extravagant cars. His, too. His car. Red as the paint on the lips of his mother on the day she’d lied on the brocades of her casket. He loosens his tie.

Wind. His naked toes curl on the parapet. He supposes it’s fear, an overcoming caress, an excitement. He wants this. He unfastens his wristwatch, looming over the pebbly edge. Half a breath, _a few moments more_. He closes his eyes, licks his dry lips—

The buzzer blares. His eyes flutter open.

 

He leaves the watch where it lies on the stone and smoothens his hair with his hand. It is darker when he steps back inside, colder.

He descends the glass steps of the staircase. The iced surface numbs the soles of his feet. His teeth clatter, his fingers move on their own to re-button his collar. He stands before the door of his home. Brief bursts of light illumine the room. The buzzer again. He opens the door.

“Sasuke.”

He looks at her. She looks at him, too.

“Sakura.”

She smiles, but not at him. She’s not alone. She brings the child forward, away from her shadow.

“It’s her birthday,” Sakura says.

He lowers his eyes. The child keeps its gaze to the floor, clasping onto a pink and gel backpack with both of her arms.

“Go on, Sarada,” whispers Sakura, but the child does not move. She leans, short strands of hair veiling her face as she croons, “Sarada, don’t you want to spend some time with daddy?”

The child looks up, the rim of the glasses she wears nearly as black as her eyes, as his. She nods, shielding her reddening cheeks with the glittery backpack. Sakura straightens, gently urging her towards him. He steps to the side. It is enough to make the child rush in.

“I’ll swing by noon,” Sakura tells him. “She brought some birthday cake for you. Cookie Crunch. It’s in her backpack.”

He nods.

“Have you slept?”

“Yes.”

“You look—”

“I’m fine.”

“...She chose a book. She’ll want it read before bedtime.”

He nods.

She readjusts her shearling coat and discreetly peers over his shoulder.

“What?”

His tone isn’t kind. She steps back. There is no kindness in this, either.

“Goodnight,” she says.

“Goodnight.”

She looks at him. Pity, hate, love, nothing. She leaves without a word. He shuts the door and locks it.

 

He has no present for the child.

She stands in the middle of his kitchen, wide-eyed and expectant. Expectant of what, he does not know. She sets her pack onto the counter and shifts from foot to foot.

“I’ll order food,” he says. “Do you like pizza?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

He puts the phone down. The clack echoes out into the silence.

“What do you like.”

She looks down. Moments pass, but all she does is fiddle with the purple trimmings of her dress. He rakes a hand into his hair.

“Wait there,” he says.

He climbs the staircase for a pair of shoes, a fitted coat, and grabs his keys and wallet. He does not need to tell her, the child simply follows him out of the apartment. They walk the winding halls, a foot of space apart, till they step inside the elevator. He taps the lower button. She slips her little hand into his palm. The doors chime open. He pulls his palm away.

 

He parks the car. They both step out. The logo of the toy store shimmers on the saturated blacktop. The child grasps onto a handful of his coat to try and keep up with his stride. Low music plays inside. The alternating ceiling lights create an oceanic vibe across the flooring. It’s an hour before midnight. No customers are here and according to the placard they don’t have a lot of time before the toy store closes.

“Go,” says Sasuke. “Get anything you want.”

He expects her to dash into the aisles, but the child only tucks herself behind his legs. She looks at him. Those big black eyes, his smooth pale skin reflected unmistakably upon her features. He stares at her. Those features. He feels cold. His brow cinches the closer that he looks. It’s sharp, this feeling. Cruel and dark and shapeless—

“Look, daddy, look!”

She unsticks herself from him, zipping over to a pool of objects on display. He stands there, watching blankly as she flings herself into the varicolored pile. The action is encouraged, it says so on the giant sign above the toy pen. It isn’t long till the child reemerges with a plaything of her choosing.

“This one, daddy, this one!”

She holds it high above her head. A stuffed pink shark, bloated to the seams with polyester fill. It’s as big as her, the brightest in the pile.

“Sharky,” she says before she hugs it. “Mr. Sharky.”

 

The shark is all she wants. They stand in line and wait for a cashier.

“Hey!” one says as he jogs his way out of the aisles. “Find everything okay? Sorry, didn’t see you guys walk in.”

He stations himself behind the register and smiles. Blue eyes, white teeth. He’s tall, young, no older than his early twenties. A suck mark heals just beneath the fabric of his collar. It isn’t recent. In fact, it is practically invisible. His lips are full. His hair is flaxen. Time constricts. Sasuke can’t stop staring.

The child hoists the toy onto the counter. “It’s my birthday,” she announces. “I’m seven.”

“Oh!” the store clerk beams. He glances once at Sasuke, as if checking for permission to address her. Sasuke looks away, pretending to gaze down at the child. “W-well, look at you! All grown up. Happy birthday, little miss.”

She giggles. “Thank you, mister.”

“Nay,” he says, “it is I who should be thankful.” He twirls his hand and gives a little bow.

Sasuke feels the child huddle up against his leg, abashed by the attention. The clerk scans the price tag on the toy and gently slides it over to her.

“Take good care of’im, okay? I can tell he likes you.”

She nods and wraps her arms around the shark protectively.

“Total’s twenty-two and zero cents.” He taps some buttons on the checkout screen. “Dropped a little discount for you guys,” he winks. “That okay?”

Sasuke swallows hard. “Yes. Th...thank you.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.”

It takes Sasuke far too long to reach back for his wallet. He hands the card over to the clerk. Their fingers graze. Their eyes meet briefly as Sasuke signs off the receipt. He shivers, unable to keep a steady hand around the plastic pen.

“Neat,” says the clerk. “Stop on by again.” He looks over at the child. “Deal?”

The child nods, squeezing tighter at the toy. Those blue eyes look him down again. Sasuke feels them on his back even as they leave.

Naruto. His name is Naruto. It said so on the nametag of his shirt.

 

The red light stops them at an empty crossway. The low purr of the engine pulses through the car.

“Daddy…”

He glances at the rearview mirror. The shark is sat beside her, neatly buckled in. The light flicks green. He shifts his foot onto the pedal and takes a turn onto the skyway.

“Daddy,” the child tries again. “Was he a prince?”

Warmth. It travels to his face and stomach.

“I think he was a prince,” the child answers for him. "He was pretty.”

Drizzle dots the dash. The child falls asleep. Sasuke’s heart will not stop racing.

**oOo**

He cannot sleep. He sits up in his bed and the black surface of the television screen shows his pale reflection. The room spans from wall to wall. Moonlight glints across his nightstand. He can hear his breathing, can feel his hand dip into the covers and grip him gently by the cock.

 

An hour after noon, Sakura stops by to pick up the child. She’s in her work clothes. The clinging stink of antiseptic wafts into his home. She doesn’t speak to him. The child rushes from the steps.

“Momma, momma! Please, can I stay? Just a little longer, momma, I promise I won’t—”

“Daddy needs some rest,” says Sakura. She takes her child’s hand and reassures her, “You’ll see him again soon, alright?”

The child nods. She peeks at him from the safety of her mother’s shadow, her big black eyes yet rife with hope. When Sasuke looks away, the child hides her face between her arm and sniffles.

“She’ll miss you.” The words aren’t soft. “Come on, bug, we’ll catch some lunch along the way.”

They start to leave. Sasuke shuts the door and locks it.

 

Dusk falls fast. Shadows lengthen. He climbs the see-through steps and is promptly greeted by the child’s toy resting up against the closed door of his room. There’s a note attached to it, held in place by purple stickers.

_for Daddy. pleas dont be lonely anymore. love, Sharky and Sarada_

He grabs the toy and sets it onto the hassock of his bed. It stares at him. He stares, too. Its underfins are yellow, its eyes are powder blue. Something in him sparks like it had sparked the night before, raw and overwhelming. He feels it in his core. A faint distortion carries through his vision when at last he reaches for the toy. He unsticks the piece of paper from its fur and slowly flips it over.

The receipt.

Sasuke’s fingers dig into the toy.

**oOo**

Winter’s freeze solidifies the ocean’s mist—a heavy gloom. Sasuke wraps his scarf about himself a little tighter and steps out of the car. His shoes resound along the brackish pavement, yet crisp with that day’s rain. He strides into the toy store. His breath creates a momentary cloud. The same fluctuating lights lap across the carpet floor. The air is warm. His heart is in his throat. He sets the toy onto the counter of the register and waits.

“Oh. Oh wow. Turned out she wasn’t a big fan, huh?”

Sasuke turns. It’s him, Naruto, nearing over to him. He wears his uniform, black jeans and an orange shirt. He fills them well. His long fingers tap expertly across the keyboard of the checkout.

“Probably 'cause of, I dunno, something stupid I said.”

He nips his lip. Some strands of yellow hair move to show the barbell piercing in his brow—

“Was it…?”

Sasuke blinks, only now realizing how closely he’s been staring. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Not at all.”

His nervous voice earns him a white smile. Sasuke’s chest constricts.

“Got the receipt on ya? No problem if you don’t.”

Sasuke hands it over. Those blue eyes linger. Sasuke glances over to the side.

“Alrighty,” says the clerk. “I’ll take ol’ sharko here off your hands. Full refund on your card. Hopefully I do a better job next time.” He sighs. “But, man. I was so sure she loved it.”

“She did,” blurts Sasuke. “You—you did...good.”

“You think?” He sets his hands onto the counter, effectively broadening his shoulders.

“Yes,” breathes Sasuke, and his mouth feels very dry.

“Not just saying that ‘cause you feel bad, right?” He leans. The earthy fragrance of his neck permeates what little space is left between them. Sasuke swallows hard.

“I’m not—”

“You sure?”

“I am—”

“Fine,” chuckles Naruto. “I believe ya.” He steps away, casually creating distance. “Anyway, thanks for stopping by, sir. Safe ride, alright?”

“Wait.”

He does.

“I… It’s closing soon, correct? The store?”

Naruto’s eyebrow raises by a notch. “Uh. Yeah, it is.”

“Would you… With me, would you want to have a coffee with me?”

At first, Naruto just blinks. Then the corner of his mouth begins to twinge. Disgust, ridicule, derision. Bile churns through Sasuke’s gut. The reality of the situation travels like a scalpel through his spine. It is no small secret, he is years older, has by all accounts and purposes come off as desperate and sleazy. He could take it back, he could just leave now—

“I mean. I’m not all that versed in coffee. Especially with enigmatic strangers. But, what the heck, right? First time for everything.”

He tugs into his jacket and fishes out some keys.

“Lead on,” he smiles. “I’ll follow ya.”

_...Enigmatic._

Sasuke does as he is told.

**oOo**


End file.
